Mukashi no Koibito
by eri
Summary: A medical intern and a young street thug in modern Tokyo - so little in common except for the ties that bind, even through time. What will memories of a shared past do to two strangers?
1. Serendipity

**Mukashi no Koibito**

**1 : Serendipity**

Takani Megumi sighed inwardly as she checked the schedule. Her next destination was an outpatient treatment room just around the corner. Exhaustion was threatening to catch up with her, but it was still two hours more before she could go home and crawl into her futon. Such was the life of an intern. The hospital worked them like dogs.

"I'm here," she announced wearily as she pushed the door open. But no senior doctor was around, just a young man sitting on the examination bed. His back was towards her, and he did not bother to look at her when she entered.

"Ano..." she began cautiously.

The young man turned his head slightly. "Just fix up my hand. The old doctor said you could handle that before he left."

She said nothing, but made her way to the examination bed, slightly irked that the man was behaving in such an arrogant manner. He was looking down at his right hand wrapped carelessly in a bloodstained piece of cloth. It was hard to see what he looked like with his face tilted down like that. He had interesting hair though; unruly and a dark chestnut brown colour, the longish strands flopped about haphazardly around his head, then tapered gradually down his neck. It was a distinctive style that was flattering on its owner, as far as she could tell from her angle.

"Let me see your hand."

Firmly she clasped his wrist with her left hand, pulling it closer to her. The young man did not so much as wince. She unwound the bloody cloth with her right. Examining his injuries carefully, she concluded, "There's a lot of blood, but otherwise the damage isn't as bad as it looks."

"Good then."

"Tough guy, aren't you?" The sarcasm was obvious. This time the young man looked up.

"Nobody asked for your--" he stopped midway, and stared at her.

An odd feeling came over her. She could finally see what the young man looked like, and for some reason it startled her. He was attractive in a roguish way, with dark brown eyes that gazed insistently at her. She stared back at him. For the life of her she could not put a name to what she was experiencing.

It was the young man who broke eye contact first. "Takani Megumi," he read slowly from the plastic tag above her right breast. "Megumi," he repeated her name softly; sounding quite disoriented as he did so. "You're kind of young for a doctor."

The sound of his husky voice in the quiet room dissipated the strange tension. She shook her head slightly, taking comfort in the tangible swing of her ponytail as she did so. "I'm an intern," she managed to answer.

The young man merely nodded, his gaze returning to her. Feeling awkward, she looked down at his hand, which was still resting in her grasp. "You... you need stitches," she said absently. "There's a big gash across your knuckles."

Taking out the appropriate equipment, she proceeded to repair his injured hand. She could sense him watching her as she worked carefully.

"So, you got into a fight?" she asked casually in an attempt to draw his attention away from her face. His staring was making her uncomfortable. He did look like the rough sort anyway.

He nodded. "Punched out some guy who was pushing a girl around."

Pausing in her work, she glanced up at him. "Really?"

"Sounds like heroics but I never lie." The young man was starting to sound arrogant again.

"Maybe you wanted the girl for yourself."

"You're a sly one, but no," he shrugged. "It's called honour, you know?" He said it in such a matter of fact manner she thought it would be mean if she laughed.

"Well, that's almost outdated these days."

He shrugged again in response. She finished up the final stitch and broke the thread. Taking out a roll of gauze, she began to wind it around his hand. Her motions were surprisingly quick and routine, as if she had done this plenty of times before. But in her limited experience people hardly came to the hospital with fists that got injured in fights. It was all very peculiar.

"I can go now?"

"Hai. Take care of that hand, and come back in two weeks," she said briskly, turning away from him as she cleared up the equipment strewn all over the small table. "Don't get into anymore fights."

She longed to take another look at him before he left the room, but restrained herself. He was just a patient. She would never progress beyond a naïve intern if she let her emotions run amok like that. The man was not even dead yet he was affecting her this much.

"Arigatou," he answered. Then he touched her shoulder briefly, making her turn around. As she did so, he took the opportunity to say hesitantly, "You're very pretty."

She could only stare at him in raw surprise. The cheeky bastard had caught her completely off-guard. He grinned somewhat cockily at her reaction.

"Ja ne, onna sensei."

He strode out of the room with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The door swung shut. She was tempted to go after him, but it would be a foolish thing to do for someone in her position. What would she say when she caught up with him? After a brief moment of contemplation, she too made her way out of the room and towards the registration counter.

From the nurses on duty there she found out the young man's name. "Sagara Sanosuke," she said under her breath as she walked away from the curious nurses. It was an unusual name. Thinking about his name brought to mind an image of the young man, his playful grin and unruly hair and casual arrogance. Rare was the time when a man could occupy her thoughts so intensely like this; the plain truth was that she wanted to see him again. Impulsively, she walked back to the counter.

"If that young man Sagara-san comes back, could you please inform me?"

As much as she hated to feel helpless, the only thing to do now was wait.

---

The street ahead was so rendered in shadow that Sanosuke could barely see where he was putting his feet as he walked home. It was a bit depressing being surrounded in such darkness, but he had not much choice. Him and money - theirs was a stormy relationship, and it so happened that for the past months money had cruelly deserted him. No matter, he was never one to dwell long on what he did not have. He could handle cheap, run-down housing. There was only himself to please anyway and he was not one who was difficult to satisfy.

He started to whistle a wayward tune, wayward because his mind was preoccupied with something else. He was thinking about the young doctor who had just tended to his injured hand. No, she was not a doctor, but an intern. She looked so mature and assured it was hard to tell the difference.

It crossed his mind how she was exactly the kind of woman a man like him would never be exposed to ordinarily. Gangster, thug, street punk, hoodlum - these formed the usual variety of what people have labeled Sagara Sanosuke. He was all of them, and yet none of them. It really depended on his mood.

_Che._ It would be less trying on his self-esteem if he let his mind wander to other aspects of her. Like how beautiful she washe thought fondly. Really, she was much more than the mere 'pretty' he had accorded her. He shook his head in annoyance as he thought about their exchange at that particular moment. It was a cheap shot on his part. He had only wanted to look at her again and it was hard to when she refused to look in his direction.

Her response was worth it though. The woman looked absolutely stupefied. It was funny in an ironic way, surely he was not the first man to compliment her on her looks. She was tall and willowy, with refined features, almost startlingly pale - blessed with the kind of beauty that could just as well screw up her life. But she did not appear particularly besotted with her looks, and she was willingly subjecting herself to the hard life of a medical intern, so she must have her head in the right place.

He thought about the uncomfortable quiver that ran up his spine when he glanced at her the first time. It was not the kind of jolting excitement at the sight of a nice-looking woman, for he had experienced enough of those to know that like a spark they flared brilliantly, but fizzled quickly.

The feeling just now was discomforting yet tantalizing, something he could not find it in himself to explain. He rationalized that it was probably because she was by far the most attractive woman he had seen in the longest time - he _had_ felt rather chaste for the past months, but the explanation seemed too simplified to justify the sheer depth of feeling.

It had shook him up enough to make him want to leave as soon as she finished fixing up his hand, to give him a chance to think. Yet he had also been reluctant to part with her, hence that impulsive cheap shot that still made him cringe when he thought about it.

"Bakayarou, Sanosuke," he cursed aloud as he looked up at the starless night sky.

On hindsight he should have stayed and talked to her, never mind that he noticed she had a sharp tongue. There was something intriguing about her that he could not put his finger on. Now he had to wait a whole fortnight to have a proper reason to see her again.

If he could even wait that long.


	2. When Paths Merge

**Mukashi no Koibito**

**2 : When Paths Merge**

People were giving the tall young man cursory glances as they strolled by. He was leaning casually against the pillar of the darkened office building, almost blending in with the shadows contrived by the dim street lamps nearby. He looked as if he was waiting for something to happen, the anticipatory air surrounding him the prelude before a climax. It was a potent combination of this edginess and his rough appearance that made the passersby nervous.

Sanosuke yawned loudly, and then stretched. He had been standing, squatting, slouching at the same corner since early evening. It was a prime spot, facing the hospital building opposite and allowing him an excellent view of every person who came in and out of it. But he was waiting for one person only, and she was taking a long time to come out, if she was even in the building in the first place.

Staring idly at the lighted windows of the hospital building, he tried to hazard a guess which room contained Megumi.

---

Parting the blinds, Megumi peered out of the slightly grimy window. She could see the bright lights of the city just a short distance away. That was where she would be tonight. Her shift had ended, and it was time to go home.

It had been almost a week since her encounter with Sanosuke. He occupied her thoughts so constantly that his name just rolled off her consciousness as if he were an old friend. She still wondered what exactly he had evoked in her. It was clear now that he was not a mere patient, as she had tried to persuade herself that night. There was something about the man; something she would have to wait another frustrating week to find out what. He _would_ come back then, even if it did not look like he cared much whether his injury healed properly or not. She had already convinced herself as much, and she refused to think otherwise.

With thoughts of Sanosuke still lingering, she left the hospital building. As she made her way pass the usual stretch of gray buildings, a conspicuous figure approached from the opposite direction. His height was striking, as was his gait. He walked with a confident swagger, his hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers. She paused momentarily. Could it be him?

"Onna sensei, konbanwa." The stranger called out cheerfully in a familiar voice as he came closer.

It really was him! He wore a plain, loose shirt with more than the usual number of buttons left open; whether it was his preference or an indication of a sloppy character, it gave the distinct impression of rebelliousness. The grey trousers were just as loose. His sneakers she recognized as the favored brand of young men, since all the male interns owned a pair, but they were scuffed beyond repair. She could not remember what he wore the first time she met him, but now she was observing every detail.

Not quite sure what to think, she greeted him back hesitantly. It was as if her thoughts had miraculously manifested themselves into reality, now that he was standing right in front of her. Then she blurted out, "What are you doing here?"

"Happened to be in the area, and then I saw you walking out of the hospital," he said. "Such a coincidence, huh?"

Quite frankly there was nothing in the area that would interest someone like him. There were just a couple of office buildings and the hospital. It crossed her mind briefly that perhaps it was less of a coincidence than a planned encounter.

"How's your hand?" she asked politely.

"Not bad," he said as he pulled the bandaged hand out of his pocket and examined it. "Doesn't hurt a bit."

Again, that show of cockiness.

"Probably because you get into fights pretty often, and you're used to being injured."

"You always have something sharp to say, don't you?"

"Only when it comes to you."

The words came naturally, and it surprised her. It was not the first time someone had called her sharp, but it certainly was the first time she exercised her wit so freely, and to think he was a stranger. She really ought to watch her tongue.

He shook his head, slightly exasperated. "So, onna sensei, where are you headed for?"

"My name is Megumi. Takani Megumi, if you've forgotten already."

"No, I haven't," he said simply. "And my name is Sagara Sanosuke."

"I know. It's an unusual name."

---

The onna sensei had bothered to find out his name, and to think she still remembered it. Sanosuke had to curb the wide, foolish grin that threatened to show up on his face. Instead he asked again, with a straight face, "Where are you headed?"

"To the city, to get something to eat."

"Let's go then."

He had walked several paces ahead before he noticed that Megumi was not following him. Turning around, he realized she was still rooted to her spot, looking at him with some curiosity. Feeling a nervousness that was unfamiliar, he walked back to where she was standing.

"And why should I trust you?"

The question was tossed out playfully as he neared. She had her arms crossed in front of her and her head was tilted slightly to one side. Apparently, she was not going to let his arrogance go so easily. _Kitsune_. A now familiar annoyance pricked at him. Yet he was also amused enough to want to indulge her.

"I won't hurt you," he answered nonchalantly. That was the best he could offer, considering how little time he had to think. He had to admit he did not have the quick mind that Megumi possessed, so no witty answer that would easily charm a woman. At least he was honest. Now the challenge was hers to take up, if she should choose to do so.

She remained quiet, her playful expression giving way to a more serious one. She was chewing on her lower lip as if his words needed to be contemplated. The pause was getting awkward, and suddenly he felt the heavy air of defeat loom above.

"Ahh… I can understand if you don't want to."

Rationally, he was only a stranger. He had no right to assume she would trust him, even if for a moment it seemed like she would. Still he was reluctant to walk away from her. Even if his mind was persuading him to, his feet stubbornly refused to move from where he was.

In response she clasped at his arm gently. The action surprised him, but he soon regained his composure, and he managed to flash a cocky grin. A response like that was good for the ego.

She tugged at his arm. "Shall we go?" A rare smile illuminated her lovely features.

---

Lean as Sanosuke looked, his arm felt solidly muscular beneath her fingers. As they walked slowly along the street, Megumi closed her eyes and breathed in the cool night air mingled with the faintest trace of his scent. Being so close to him aroused the odd feelings of their first meeting again. Walking with him felt vaguely familiar.

"Megumi-san, daijoubu?"

The gentle concern in his voice made her shiver. She opened her eyes and nodded shakily, catching his gaze as she did so. This man felt different. Sanosuke _was_ different. She trusted him. She sensed the wild, unrestrained aura about him; by instinct she knew it bordered on the dangerous. Yet it had only taken a few moments of hesitation on her part before she agreed to go with him. To think she had a reputation for being cautious.

She did not see much in her male counterparts, who clamored so embarrassingly for her attention. She liked older men, at least they said things that interested her, and they tended to carry themselves with more dignity than the pups. But to her knowledge, the ones that stayed single were that way for a reason, and the married ones were too complicated for her to want to get involved with. She was always cautious with who she chose to spend her time with, and in the end she was alone.

Here was Sanosuke, the kind of man she had little experience with and the one who finally caught her attention. In high school, he would be the type that cut class to sneak cigarettes at the bicycle stands, who hung out with the girls with too-short skirts and frightfully dyed hair, who sat at the back of the class and talked back to the teacher.

Her kind and his kind, they had a cordial enough relationship, but secretly they despised each other, perhaps out of admiration for one another's chosen lifestyle. Such people were conspicuously missing in university, and now in the hospital where she worked. Maybe she missed the vicarious excitement his kind provided. But what kind of person was he, really?

They walked along the street in companionable silence. Occasionally a car would speed by, interrupting the tranquil mood. Since when do strangers share companionable silences? The notion rammed into her thoughts rudely. She let herself dwell on the new oddity, until she realized that she was clinging onto his arm like she had a right to him, and that he was letting her do so.

"Let's go to this restaurant near the city. It's pretty rundown but the food is excellent, and sometimes I even get to eat for free…" he started to say, apparently oblivious to her slightly furrowed brow.

She shook herself mentally. "Sounds good to me," she managed to answer through the complicated tangle of thoughts in her mind.

Sanosuke grinned. That she approved seemed to make him ridiculously happy. His brilliant smile was satisfying all by itself, and the feeling stayed with her the rest of the walk there.


	3. A Trace of Before

**Mukashi no Koibito**

**3 : A Trace of Before**

The restaurant that Sanosuke was telling her about was located on the fringe of the city, in an area Megumi rarely ventured into. This was known to be a seedier part of the city; home to society's outsiders, trendy to adolescents and generally avoided by the white-collar crowd. Her uneasy curiosity at the surroundings did not escape his notice.

"Not the kind of place for a woman like you?"

"Why bring me here then?"

"Well, today you have me to protect you."

He cast a sidelong glance at her. She raised an eyebrow, though she let his comment pass. If he knew how used to being alone she was, he would understand that protecting herself was something she had learnt to do since a young age.

"That's the place I'm talking about," he pointed to the run-down exterior of what looked like an eating establishment. "The signboard fell off a long time ago and nobody can remember what it's called anymore."

He shoved the stiff door aside and let her enter before following behind her. The layout of the restaurant was unexpectedly traditional. Tall exposed wooden beams supported the structure while shoji screens separated each dining space from the next. There were a few random customers scattered here and there, but otherwise the inside was quite empty.

Placing a gentle hand on the small of her back, he guided her to one of the partitioned spaces. His touch was intimate, and she realized that she ought to swat his hand away. They took off their shoes and seated themselves on the tatami before a short table. She fingered the shoji screen that separated their space from the next, noting how yellowed with age the rice paper panels were. There was a lantern by each side of the opening, and the light they emitted bathed the dim area in a warm yellow glow.

"How old is this place?" she asked as she marveled at the interior. It was exquisite in a way that only a truly old establishment could be. There was none of the deliberateness that constructed nostalgia possessed. As it was, the restaurant seemed to be falling apart.

He shrugged. "Old. Since early Meiji, maybe? It's a beautiful place."

She nodded enthusiastically. "It is, isn't it? Even though it…" she made a wide gesture in an attempt to illustrate her point.

"Even though it looks like it's going to collapse on us any minute!" he finished for her.

He grinned mischievously, and then started bouncing up and down on his heels. The floorboards beneath the tatami creaked alarmingly. She had to laugh.

"You know," he continued, more serious this time. "Its good you appreciate its beauty. Too many people think it's a piece of junk that should be torn down."

"You feel a lot for this place?"

The way he had instantly known where to sit upon entering the restaurant; the way he had settled himself carelessly on the tatami, one leg folded and the other hitched up, suggested that these were surroundings he was accustomed to.

He contemplated her thoughtfully. "I just think some part of the past should always exist in the present. It reminds us of who we once were."

The astuteness of the comment seemed out of character for the brash young man sitting across her. But more surprising than his sudden flash of acumen was the startling effect of his words. Vaguely she understood that there was some meaning she was supposed to grasp from them, but her floundering thoughts could not even begin to discern what it was. Confused, she looked to him to see if he realized the weight of what he had said carried.

He merely looked back at her with curiosity. "Why are you staring at me like that for?"

She shook her head irritably. He could just as well be quoting from a history textbook.

"Daijoubu? It's the second time tonight you're looking out of sorts."

"I'm fine," she said firmly. "Let's order."

Yet his words continued to dance around the edges of her thoughts, the meaning always frustratingly out of reach.

---

She was distracted, Sanosuke could tell. From the absent-minded way she was picking at her food with her chopsticks to the pensive look in her eyes, she appeared as if she was lost in her own world. Occasionally she would snap out of her musings, and remember that he was sitting across from her.

He poured himself another cup of sake, and downed it in one swallow. Then he poured more sake into the now empty cup. Was it something he said? Megumi seemed interested enough at the start, but now they were only having fits and starts at conversation.

"You drink a lot."

He looked up to meet appraising eyes. Once again her mind was back with him in the restaurant. "What do you care?" he spat out, venting his disappointment in the harsh tone of his words.

She looked surprised at first, then she narrowed her eyes at him. "Save your aggression for brawling."

Her words cut, and a moment of tense silence ensued. He scowled as he wrapped the fingers of his uninjured hand tightly around the sake flask, clenching it with controlled force. He could easily crush the ceramic vessel if he wanted to, but then he would only prove her right, that he was aggressive. It was with a tinge of irony that he realized how rapidly their relationship was developing - they were already having their first quarrel. _Chikusho--_

Then for the second time that night she caught him off-guard. She reached across the table and clasped her hand around his. Gently, she pried his fingers from the flask. Laying his hand flat against the table, she rested her own on his open palm. Her touch felt cool against his warm skin.

He cleared his throat. Whatever she was trying to do, it was having quite an effect on him. The tension drained from his taut shoulders as he allowed himself to savor the sensation of her palm against his. He shifted somewhat awkwardly. The simplest of gestures, yet it aroused the strongest feelings of desire.

"Gomen," she began, and then she paused.

Slowly, he closed his fingers around her hand.

"You and I…" Her voice trailed off before she could complete her sentence. She shook her head again. "I wish I could explain to you what's on my mind, but I just… I just can't find the words." A small sound of exasperation escaped from her lips.

He let his gaze dwell over her troubled features. "I understand," he finally said.

There was nothing more he wanted at that moment than for her to reveal her thoughts. He wanted to tell her that he would listen with utmost attention no matter what she chose to disclose, but he was reluctant to push her.

In return, she smiled gratefully. Her hand was still nestled in his. He could feel the fine bones of her smooth fingers beneath his callused touch. She had been thinking about them, and he could empathize with that. The phenomenon that was Takani Megumi was a mystery to him, and he was sure that she too sensed the unusual intimacy between them. But while she tried to put the strangeness in concrete words, he was content to just have her by his side. He was one who lived by instinct, for experience had taught him it was the best way to survive on the streets. So if gut feeling told him it was right to be with her, then that was enough for him, for now.


	4. The Meaning of Dreams

**Mukashi no Koibito**

**4 : The Meaning of Dreams**

The young woman sat alone in a small room. Her pale lavender kimono and the purple michiyuki she wore over it were crumpled, as if they had been through some abuse. Hanging her head low so that her long hair shrouded her face, she sat quite still. The only movement from the woman came from her pale hands, which were clasping and unclasping each other in her lap. Her slender figure juxtaposed against the emptiness of the room made her appear especially vulnerable, more so since a palpable sadness emanated from her being. As she lifted her head, fine features and fair skin were revealed.

Strangely there was a short sword on the floor near her, and she bent over to pick it up. She stared dazedly at the object in her hand, as if contemplating its significance. For a woman mired in despondency, there was only one use for the weapon.

Megumi jerked up from her futon, her heart beating a frenzied rhythm. The dream had been so vivid and quite frightening, as it always was. It was a dream that had been recurring for the past weeks, and by now so familiar that it was disturbing. The protagonist of the dream, that young woman, she belonged to another era. Her traditional attire, her gloriously long hair, her delicately powdered face; those were attributes of an antiquated beauty. And she looked so much like her.

She shuddered slightly. "It's just a dream!" she said aloud in an attempt to comfort herself and to quell the barrage of thoughts the dream triggered. Her voice sounded loud and clear in the silence of the room. Too loud and too clear. She was so very alone in her little apartment. Right here and now, it would be more than comforting to have the warm embrace of another to indulge in.

Sanosuke. Instinctively, she thought of the man who not long before was merely a stranger. She wrapped her arms around herself momentarily; trying to imagine it was his arms that were holding her. He would feel solid and warm. She would be seeing him in a few hours. With that thought in mind, she lay down again, burrowing under the sheets of the futon and pulling them up over her head. She shut her eyes, forcing herself to sleep despite the uneasiness she felt. The melancholy that haunted the woman in her dream now haunted her, for the poor creature had wanted to end her life.

In the dark, under the sheets, she tried to suppress another shudder. Morning would come soon, and hopefully thoughts of the disturbing dream would fade slowly with the darkness.

---

"Oi, Megumi!" Sanosuke sauntered over to her with deliberate casualness. He would have bounded towards her with the kind of enthusiasm he felt at seeing her again, but the mental image of himself as a large and eager breed of dog was quite unappealing.

She smiled, a genuine one reflecting her own enthusiasm at his presence. She looked quite the young sophisticate, always wonderfully groomed and with perfect posture. It almost made him want to take his hands out of his pockets, a habit he possessed ever since he could remember. But she did not seem to mind it, the same way she did not mind the slightly aggressive way he walked or the lazy drawl that characterized the way he spoke.

He tugged gently at her ponytail in affectionate greeting. He wished she would undo the band that held her hair up and let the long strands loose. Somehow, she did not look quite right with her hair like that.

"Why is your hair always tied up?"

"Why not? It's practical."

He fingered the band around the base of her ponytail, wondering to what degrees she would be annoyed if he pulled it off. "Hair as long as yours should be flaunted."

"Don't be such a _man_ about it!" With that, she tried to swat his hand away from her hair.

He grinned. "There are just so many things I would do to that long hair if only you would let it down."

"Like what?" she asked, her head tilted up towards him. Whether she was conscious of it or not, Megumi was a natural flirt.

"Like run my fingers through it. Stroke it. Maybe ah, kiss it." He let the soft strands fall through his fingers. She really did have beautiful hair. He cleared his throat at the last suggestion. There were things he imagined doing with her, but they sounded somewhat brazen said aloud.

"In due time, Sanosuke," she retorted suggestively, a promise of things to come. Then she slipped her arm through his in her usual way. But he retracted his hand from his pocket so that he could hold her hand instead. Maybe not for the sake of etiquette, but anytime for Megumi. Besides, the bandages were finally off his right hand and he wanted to feel her skin against his. Funny, they had been seeing each other for close to two weeks and never once had he attempted to hold her hand as they walked.

"What's this?" She raised his hand close to her face and scrutinized the palm. She touched the thin, almost horizontal line of raised skin at the center. That part of skin was strangely sensitive to her touch and he watched mutely as she moved her thumb along the line.

"Looks like a scar of some sort, but then it isn't really one either. It's different from the other ones on your hand." She turned his hand over to examine the variety of markings all over it.

Suddenly embarrassed, he withdrew his hand from hers. So it was not the most perfect of hands. It was rough and callused. And being his active fist, it bore the marks of numerous brawls. Not the most refined looking of hands, to say the least. Gruffly, he reached for her right hand with his left one instead. At least the skin of this one would feel better against hers.

"So what is it?" she persisted, making an attempt to grab the right hand that he had shoved back into his trusty pocket.

That scar or mark or whatever the proper term for it was had been there on his right palm since he was young. He used to have vague dreams about impulsively catching a sharp object of some sort in that hand. The details were always blurry yet the moment when the blade sliced through his flesh was vivid. Perhaps he injured himself like that as a boy, although he could not recall ever having done so.

"It's always been there."

"But it doesn't look like a birthmark."

"You're the doctor, you tell me what it's supposed to be?"

She frowned slightly. "I don't know."

"One of life's little mysteries."

He shrugged the matter off. That was the difference between him and Megumi. He was insouciant to her proper. There was always a fine line between attraction and antagonism.

---

That same night, Megumi dreamt of the young woman again. She was still despondent, still alone in the room, still wanting to end her life. As she clasped the short sword in her trembling hands, the door to the room was violently kicked down, revealing a threesome of fighters. Words were exchanged, but somehow they were not enough to dissuade her from her ultimate purpose. She made a move to slash at her exposed wrist with the sword, until the tall youth stopped the swift path of the blade with his hand.

Even her despairing soul could be frightened by his intensity. Frightened, and then confused, ultimately touched. His hand was bleeding where the blade had sliced into the flesh, and his warm blood dripped onto her hand that was still clasping the hilt of the sword, warming the cold, clammy skin.

He was shouting at her, his dark eyes flashing with an odd light, his words a multitude of vulgarities addressing the foolishness of her intended action, yet her mind only understood, even if only in a muted way, the enormity of his gesture. She felt the tears teetering precariously on the precipice of her lower eyelids, and they blurred her vision of this angry, momentarily handsome boy.

What she did not know before, she knew now.


	5. Life, again

**Mukashi no Koibito**

**5 : Life, again**

Amongst the cherry trees they sat close to each other, looking every bit like lovers wanting a slice of isolation. Sanosuke was rarely aware that Tokyo could be beautiful like this. Megumi had brought him to the secluded area they were in now, a park of some sort he did not even know existed. She said a change of scenery would be good for him, and she was right. It was spring after all, traditionally a season of new beginnings, and it was time he stopped dwelling in the gray areas of the city at godforsaken hours of the night.

He gazed at her profile, noting her high nose and small mouth. Right now that mouth was pressed together in a thin line, as if its owner was in deep thought. In the weeks he had known her, Megumi could be pensive one moment and then in another she would be blithe and devastatingly flirtatious. It was as if sadness were the shadow of her happy moments.

"Sano."

She turned her head to look at him. She had never called him Sano before There was a hesitant look in her eyes, and she spent a few brief moments observing his features before she said slowly, "Do you believe in past lives?"

"Ah?" After being quiet for so long, was the onna sensei getting philosophical on him now? She should know better than that. This was Sagara Sanosuke sitting beside her!

"Ano…"

"Never mind."

_Shimatta._ He frowned. Frankly he had never given much thought to the subject, but at least he could attempt to sound vaguely intelligent.

"If you believe in reincarnation, then you want to believe in second chances."

The words came out sounding halfway convincing. He contemplated what he had just said. He supposed he neither believed nor disbelieved in the concept. If people had faith in such an occurrence, then it was because it made them feel good to think they had another chance at living. Yet if rebirth should happen, it would likely be at random. Only the rare, lucky ones would be granted such a blessing. It was his unwavering belief in the randomness of life that caused such a perspective. Life was plenty chance and little order, which made every good experience all the more precious.

Now he was curious about what Megumi believed. She was some woman; he never seemed to think very much when he was alone. He realized she was staring at him, the same way she stared at him that night at the restaurant. He could not quite remember what he had said then that triggered off this same look. It was something about the past and the present too, wasn't it? Like so many things between them, this was as intriguingly strange.

She took a deep breath, and then began to speak. "In Meiji Japan long ago, there existed a young woman. She was alone, and in this solitude she had known only sadness. Wishing to end the sorrow, she put a blade to her wrist. Yet she didn't die, because one man would not allow her to."

Her voice was soft and dulcet in tone. It was mesmerizing listening to her speak, and only when she stopped did he wonder what the point of her story was. She did not allow him time to ask as she continued, "Do you know how that man saved her life?"

"No."

"He grabbed the blade with his bare hand."

At those words, his breath caught suddenly. She reached for his right hand and raised it up so that the mark was visible to both of them.

"That woman was me, and that man was you."

It was his turn to stare at her. She released his hand and it fell lifelessly back into his lap. She gave him a wistful little smile, and then turned away from him to look into the distance again. She was waiting for him to say he believed her.

"How--"

"Suddenly I seem to have memories of the past."

She still could not bring herself to look at him, although her voice was steady with conviction. He worked through the logic numbly - once upon a time she had lived before, and so had he. So they shared a past, but what kind of past was it?

"What happened after I… after I caught the blade?" He was surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded.

"That's how I came into your life."

Then her voice quivered slightly as she pondered aloud, "I wonder what kind of terrible existence I had before you came for me, to want to kill myself." She turned around to look at him, and he saw a flicker of hope in her eyes. "So you believe me?"

He nodded slowly. The odds were against disbelief. The unusual intimacy between them, and that extraordinary first encounter. Then there was the peculiar scar on his palm and the dreams he used to have about it. Or maybe it was just that he wanted to believe her.

So many questions unanswered, but only one truth stood out. From when he saved her life, their fates became intertwined. There was something quixotic and exhilarating about the notion. He leaned over and kissed her briefly, for the first time. Then he kissed her again more intensely. For one so impatient and impulsive, he had taken long enough to make this move. It was as if all the time he was unconsciously waiting for this moment to happen. Her lips were alluringly soft, and she tasted and responded like how he expected she would.

"I saved you, and then?" He tilted her chin up towards him, unconsciously demanding an answer.

"Medetashi, medetashi."

She smiled, but her smile wavered. Leaning forward slightly, she kissed him again. There was something she was not telling him Yet if he pursued the matter, he would have to relinquish her kiss. He was just a man; the choice was obvious. She was so close to him that the scent of whatever soap she used was overwhelming, and her lips were pressed insistently against his. He wondered if this was more of an attempt to reassure herself of something, or a calculated ploy to disconcert his senses. Whichever her purpose was, she was doing exceedingly well in one of them.

When she pulled away from him and settled in his arms, Sanosuke was reluctant to spoil their idyll that he let the matter rest. The isolated park had no visible trappings of modernity, just seemingly unending expanse of greenery and sky. It was easy to forget they were in the Tokyo of now. Perhaps that was the real reason why she had brought him here. With time forgotten, this could very well be spring in old Meiji Japan; the cherry trees in full bloom and the sky a brilliant blue.

_Medetashi, medetashi_ roughly means "How wonderful" and is something like the Japanese equivalent to "And they lived happily ever after".


	6. Truth is an Affliction

**Mukashi no Koibito**

**6 : Truth is an Affliction**

Megumi slid the shoji open as she escorted her patient, an aged farmer out of the examination room. She was about to call out for the next patient, but there was only the gangster Sanosuke outside. Seeing her, he nodded in acknowledgement and then sauntered casually into the room.

"What have you done to all my patients?" she asked sarcastically as she followed him in.

His imposing presence quite intimidated the ordinary folk. Whether he knew it or not, some of her male patients interpreted his frequent visits as an unspoken warning to maintain their distance.

"All I do is just stand there. They get scared by themselves." He settled himself down by the table. "Men in times of peace lack daring."

"Even so, that's better than lacking intelligence!"

The scorn came naturally. This infuriating youth had provoked her often enough for her to be quite proficient at the skill of insulting him. He had a way with her; the disconcerting realization had come at some point of the game. His attitude brought out whatever remnants of childish temper she still had as a woman, and like an unrestrained child she indulged in this behavior.

"Well, some men have both," he said pointedly, ignoring her insult.

It seemed that he was becoming used to her sharp tongue, that he grew a thicker hide each time they argued. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Then he waved his injured hand at her. "I need fresh bandages."

She fetched a clean roll of gauze and sat down beside him as she had done many times before. In silence she unwrapped the somewhat grimy bandages of his right hand. As she worked through the layers she noticed his hand was bleeding slightly. He was using that hand far too much no matter how many times she advised him otherwise. Like this, it would always be in some state of impairment and he would always need to come to her.

"Why do you never listen to me?" she muttered softly as she worked.

"Can't live without the fight."

He was lying. He wanted to see her. Yet she said nothing of that sort. With time, she had come to understand the reason why Sanosuke constantly frequented the clinic. Not every of his wounds needed to be cared for by a doctor, nor would anyone with even an inkling of good sense allow himself to be injured so often. The plain truth was that he sought her nearness; sometimes she wondered at what price to his own well being.

With little choice her gaze was on his hand as she worked. Her mind wandered to how she appreciated the hands that her probing fingers were now accustomed to. They were quite unlike the smooth lithe hands of Kenshin with only the palms callused from his once perpetual grip of the katana, as she had observed. Sanosuke had sturdy hands with slightly ragged, squared nails. Faint scars marred the skin, a sign of his aggressive nature, yet they were honest and trustworthy hands. Almost as good as Kenshin's capable ones, if only he would use them well. To do the laundry, perhaps?The beginnings of a sly smile played on her lips.

He caught the smile, for he leaned forward slightly so that he could look at her suspiciously. She raised her bent head to return his look with one raised eyebrow, and he drew back at the sudden closeness.

"I'd like to know what goes on in that mind of yours," he said roughly.

"You're not smart enough to find out," was the quick retort.

She winced inwardly when she noticed how his eyes seemed to darken several shades at the caustic remark. Once might be amusing, but the same insult used twice must have come across as a deliberate attempt to injure.She attempted a playful smile, but he brushed it off with a derisive grunt. Sighing in exaggerated fashion, she tied the last knot and got up to put the gauze away.

Sanosuke was watching her now that her back was towards him. Even though she could not see him, she had learnt to become sensitive to his gaze. His indulgent staring caused a slight tension in her movements; she wondered if it was ever obvious to his eyes. She lingered by the medicine cabinet, allowing his gaze to roam over her back a little longer. Perhaps she was being kind. Finally she turned around. He averted his eyes to his hand.

"Arigatou, kitsune-onna." He made a move to leave. "Sayonara."

"Don't speak too soon, you'll come back."

He paused and gave her an odd look, as if there was some meaning to her words that he understood. Then he shrugged and left the clinic, and she was alone again.

---

Megumi opened her eyes, and the sudden view of the modern interior of her room was so jarring that she shut them again briefly. Just a few moments ago she had been going about her affairs in an Edo era house. Picking up the mirror that was left carelessly on her dresser, she peered into it. A young woman with generously long hair framing her face stared back. She had begun to wear her hair loose more often, not because Sanosuke wanted it that way but because she now understood why he wanted it that way.

Yet from the reflection alone no distinction could be made between her two identities. She tied her hair up into her customary neat ponytail. "I'm Megumi now," she muttered aloud, then frowned. "I'm Megumi _of_ now."

The memories were coming back at the most unexpected times. They returned to her in sleep, in the midst of daydreams, even when she merely closed her eyes, like just now. When she had relived the moment that he saved her, she had agonized for days over whether she ought to reveal what she knew to Sanosuke. Then more memories soon followed that first one, that there was nothing left to doubt.

So she was a doctor in Meiji Japan, a rarity for a woman in those times. She worked in a clinic for the kindly Genzai-sensei. She had no family, for some reason. Did the Bakamatsu have something to do with that? It was a turbulent part of the history of that time. She had friends, a slight red-haired man and his adolescent female companion, and the boy samurai who followed them everywhere. The man would likely be the Kenshin whose hands she had thought so capable.

Finally there was Sanosuke, so different from the kimono and hakama clad men of the era. The brazen _aku _emblazoned on the back of his white gi embodied the boldness of his unusual attire. He must have lived for the thrill of brawling to wear clothes like that, which would only attract unwarranted aggression. When she told Sanosuke about his former self he had been utterly impressed, then childishly proud for weeks.

Those were the simple memories she possessed for now. Yet even amidst their simplicity there were certain stark truths. The young fighter he had been then was deeply infatuated with the doctor who tended his hand, but it was a desire he kept secret from her. She never reciprocated his affection. As if an evenhanded justice decided to punish this deliberate indifference, what she remembered the most was moments of that life with Sanosuke. Again and again, she had relived instances of his longing and her apathy.

They were not lovers before. The thought troubled both her mind and her heart. How to explain the way she felt towards him now? The discrepancy between the truth of the past and what was happening in the present made their charmed love affair seem like a sham. For now she could not help her thoughts from wandering into cynicism; that if she had not believed them to be together from before, could she really love one like Sanosuke?

In frustration she kicked at her dresser, making the mirror jump and clatter noisily. It was a gesture so reminiscent of him that a burst of laughter followed the realization. Apparently they were spending enough time together for him to have quite an influence on her.

Until she remembered, whatever she may remember, it was necessary to distinguish between her two selves, the one who had left him out in the cold and the one who was falling for him in a rapid, overwhelming way The contradiction threatened to make her poor mind snap, even though she understood that this was no longer before, but the here and now.

And, until she was ready, there were some things her impetuous Sanosuke was better off not knowing.


	7. A Battle Lost and Won

**Mukashi no Koibito**

**7 : A Battle Lost and Won**

Sleep was an elusive temptress tonight. Sanosuke did so want to fall asleep, for physically he was tired enough. It was usually easy to drift off to sleep when he was sated, but tonight was proving to be exceptional. This restlessness was as if he was expecting something to happen, the feeling almost akin to when anticipating an opponent's next strike.

Idly he gazed around the room, having been wide-awake for so long that his eyes were by now used to the darkness. It was a small neat room bearing little embellishments amidst its stark whiteness; there was just a futon, a wardrobe and a small end table, yet there was something elegant in its minimalism. His own room was as bare too, but the effect was altogether different; it just looked sadly lacking.

When he was conscious of it, there was no end to the reminders of how wholly different he and Megumi were. While the fact could just as well separate them, he chose to see it as affirming instead. They were quite wrong for each other, yet together they remained still. He was proud of that. There was something deeply romantic about the whole affair, and it touched the part of him that was still given to quixotic dreaming. Of this he was embarrassed to admit. He was more likely to boast that his relationship with her, regarded with curiosity by outsiders, appealed to his recalcitrant nature.

They had been together from the headiness of early spring till the languorous days of summer's end, and there would be many more seasons to come for the both of them. Propping himself up on one arm, he leaned over the figure beside him and gently tucked her hair over her shoulder. She did not stir. Softly he blew into her ear, because he was bored, and because he could. This time she stirred just a little, a familiar look of annoyance flittering across her serene features briefly. He had to stifle his laughter. Settling back into the futon, he tried again to pursue sleep.

---

Sanosuke was careful to be on time for his appointment with the kitsune-onna, who now attended to the hand he wrecked at Kyoto. She had made him sit on a little stool by the Western-style desk, while she herself had dragged another stool to sit opposite him. Though legitimate, their proximity was alarming. While she wound the bandages with one hand, the other came under his hand to support the wrist. In doing so, her fingers slid under his sleeve, the smooth fingertips pressing against the sensitive underside of his forearm. They were so close that their knees were touching, and fabric was not enough of a barrier when it came to his imagination.

"How is Ken-san? I hope he's not up and about?"

"He's resting," he said, and then to prove to himself that he could sustain a conversation about the man with her, "I think laundry is the last thing he wants to do now."

Her interest in the rurouni was normal. Kenshin happened to be the subject of their discussion. This was nothing to be jealous about. All the jealousy he never thought he had in him had been spent on his closest friend. When he witnessed her put-on coquettishness in front of the older man, a sour taste would come into his mouth. The sourness would slowly distill into a distinctly bitter flavor if he watched them long enough. He imagined it was the taste of unadulterated jealousy, so acrid that it compelled a reflex action. Soon enough, his head would bend down and away from the sight of them.

She looked up at him briefly and smiled at his wry comment, then she bent her head to look at his hand in hers. Her thoughts were still on Kenshin, he could tell by the way that she just stared at the still raw lacerations. Yet her duty was towards him now.

It had been difficult to suppress his feelings, for secrecy rebelled against his nature. He liked people as open as he was, but he was drawn to a woman so purposely reticent as Megumi. He had not known how to cope with his wild emotions, and a way that complimented her character was to practice restraint.

How he felt about her had been complex from the start. He struggled with how from intense dislike he had come to love her, suddenly and without reason. Perhaps the intensity of love and hatred were so much the same that it was only by a name that one was separated from the other.

The Kyoto fight was over. He had come back alive. There were certain things he planned to do with the life he was granted. He had promised himself to be stronger, and honesty was strength in itself. There was no need to rationalize the way he felt about her anymore. Because he felt so deeply, it was true enough.

"Kaoru is probably with him now," he said. "Have you noticed? They've become closer since our return from Kyoto."

She looked up once again, something akin to surprise showing on her features. Her smallish eyes widened somewhat, and her lips parted as if about to protest what he just said.

"Like people in love," he said quickly.

Promptly he bit his tongue in a fit of annoyance at himself. He did not mean to say that; many nights tossing about in his futon until the sheets were crumpled and damp with sweat, in a strained exercise of thinking up the best way to tell her how he felt, all that was wasted now with this unthinking outburst. He had finally come to the conclusion that the best way to tell her, for one so inept with words, was through action. He would find some way to touch her, her hair, her hand, her shoulder, anywhere that was appropriate for the moment, and through that gesture communicate all the frustrated longing he kept inside him.

But what was done was done. He supposed he only spoke the truth, for Kenshin and Kaoru's time was now. The people who were meant to be together were finally together, and in the light of their blossoming love, he and Megumi could begin something too. He just needed to be honest with her. That would be their start, he had decided this the moment when survival from the destruction in Kyoto became eminent.

When he noticed the look on her face, it was one of despondency, clear as day. He had not seen her show any weakness for the longest time. He had expected her to get angry at his brash words; they would argue about it and then start yelling at each other and that would likely be the end of whatever great plans he had for the day.

"I shouldn't have said that."

He would not have bothered with the apology of sorts if she did not look so wounded, for truth _was_ truth, and it was time she realized her 'Ken-san' was Kaoru's 'Kenshin' now, and perhaps had been so from the beginning. No, she must realize it already, but did she accept it?

"I can't stop him from being with who he wants. As long as he's happy," she said sadly.

His injured hand jerked involuntarily, and he grimaced at the pain. The sudden motion seemed to jolt her out of her melancholy, and she quickly recovered the professionalism of her physician self. He tilted his head slightly to see her face, but her expression of detached impassivity betrayed nothing.

So it held strong that love twisted the mind. It did hers, making her think such selflessness was worthy. It did his too, for he had not been as honest as he had promised himself. If he had been truly honest, he would have admitted that it was after all, unacceptable for them to be together. Perhaps it was a matter of pride that he had not allowed himself to acknowledge that. The light of the Kyoto victory had banished the various doubts into the darker recesses of his mind. He felt like he could achieve anything.

Now it did not mean a thing the way he felt about her, because she would not realize it. Her heart still wanted Kenshin, or was it the ideal of Kenshin? The kitsune-onna was the smartest woman he knew, for she was not called that for nothing. Yet she persisted with Kenshin the way a lesser woman would, when he had never once responded to her suggestive teasing.

She was beautiful in a way that could make men ache with yearning, or perhaps it was only stupid men who let their hearts run far, far ahead of reason, and still Kenshin ignored her affection. It was embarrassingly obvious that the rurouni would never care for her.

She confused him. He had not felt like his age in a long time, but now the inexperience of his youth struck him. Only with defeat were all weaknesses revealed; it was a lesson well learnt in the events leading up to Kyoto, but that did not make each experience easier when it came. Today he had lost, and once again the flaws became glaringly clear.

"You'll never be happy if you don't let go of Kenshin."

"I don't need advice from you," she said, a tense edge to her textured voice. "You can barely take care of yourself."

Offended, he wrenched his hand away from her grip, but she clung on stubbornly to the length of bandage from her unfinished work. He tried to make his way out of the clinic when she yanked willfully at that length. He spewed forth a string of angry curses, for it hurt his already vulnerable hand. Blood was beginning to seep through the fresh bandages.

She stood there looking at him, silent reproach in her eyes. Then she cupped his hand in hers, and led him back to where they were before. He followed her. The morning's work would have to be done all over again.

"Of all the people you know, I take care of you the most."

"What kind of doctor makes her patient bleed?"

Arguing with her felt comforting in its familiarity. Her eyes watched his carefully, while her alluringly red mouth set into interesting formations as she protested what he said. Her attention was solely on him, as his was on hers. Sullenly, he wondered if this would be the only way that he could ever express the depth of feeling that was still suppressed within him.

---

The ceiling seemed suddenly fascinating. He stared up at it, not blinking, breathing slowly. The moment he had opened his eyes, all traces of sleep vanished. Now his thoughts were rioting in his head, that the only possible way to quiet them was to stare at the bare ceiling, an expanse of calm white.

The blankness of white only urged those thoughts.

Something had happened in Kyoto; it had been enough for him to realize he loved her. He never told her, for she wanted to be with another. These facts followed each other in a circular fashion, and his mind was trapped in the infinity. Such were his first memories of a life before.

Beside him, Megumi was very real and very much his. Yet for the first time they were together, Sanosuke felt alone.


	8. Memories of Autumn

**Mukashi no Koibito**

**8 : Memories of Autumn**

Walking down the long corridor of her ward toward the lift lobby, Megumi yanked impatiently at her ponytail to come loose. She combed her hair with her fingers as she waited for the lift to arrive on her floor. It was late evening and the end of her shift, a time that always lifted her mood. Though she loved her work as one did a calling in life, there was only one thing that she craved at the end of a tired day.

Making her way out of the hospital building and down the long flight of steps that led to the pavement, she smiled when she saw the familiar figure sitting on the lower steps. Just from that unruly hair alone she could pick him out of any crowd.

"Konbanwa!" she called out.

Turning at the sound of her voice, he raised one hand in greeting at seeing her. He remained where he was though, instead of running up toward her as he usually did. Frowning petulantly, she made her way down the rest of the steps. Different from his usual spirited self, Sanosuke had been somewhat subdued recently.

As she neared, she heard a faint tune coming from his lips. Only as she sat herself down next to him did she realize he was holding a small leaf to his mouth and blowing into it, creating the slightly moody tune.

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"Maybe it's something I picked up from before."

He let the leaf fall to the ground, where it joined the few of its brethren. It was autumn already and the trees were slowly beginning to shed their leaves.

"Konbanwa," he greeted her, then kissed her indulgently. "I'm hungry."

"So am I!"

He stood up and offered his hand to her. She took it, letting him pull her up in one quick motion. Not letting go of each other's hand, they began to walk slowly through the streets. He was silent, thoughtful almost, but Megumi knew he was rarely thoughtful. His habit was to act impulsively on whatever came to mind, curse the skies down when he made a mistake, and then do the same thing all over again the next time.

They walked in silence like that, with him holding her hand a little more tightly than usual, as was his tendency lately, until they reached 'their' restaurant. It was what she called the place where they shared their first meal together, for lack of anything better to call it. The signboard was still conspicuously missing, and would probably remain so until the place collapsed.

As he shoved the stiff door aside to let her enter, he said quietly, "This is the Akabeko."

"What?"

"The Akabeko was where I used to eat with Kenshin and Kaoru and Yahiko."

"Sano… you remember?"

After so long, after all her own memories of her past, he was finally remembering his. She had expected it would happen someday, but not quite today. Was this the reason for his change in moods? There were many good memories, she now knew, but maybe he remembered the unhappy events. Yet his affection toward her had not changed, only grown. He was even becoming possessive.

He took her hand and led her to a table.

"I remember some things. This place, the Kenshin-gumi…" he paused, as if recalling the memory.

Then he looked pointedly at her, the expression in his brown eyes difficult to decipher. "And I remember you."

By conventional wisdom it was the fox that cornered the chicken, but at this moment the notion was overturned. If he remembered them the way she had, then what she had told him would now seem like lies. Perhaps like half-truths on a good day, but Sanosuke was hardly his usual happy self. It appeared that he had been remembering for some time now, to know this much.

"What about me?" she asked slowly.

"Truth isn't always what we want to hear."

Sanosuke smiled crookedly at her, the imperfection of the smile more comforting than if he had flashed his usual grin, for she realized then that he empathized with her dishonesty. The smile disappeared but a moment later, which was when he told her.

---

Bringing the sake jug to his lips, Sanosuke took an unrestrained swig of the liquid. He winced. The sharpness of truly strong sake had the effect of elucidating the senses at first, then bringing one down into a drunken stupor soon after. In a few moments he would be too inebriated to feel the ache, even though it felt terrible now.

Shivering somewhat, he pulled his gi tighter around his chest, for the chilly night air was nipping at the bare flesh. A cold night and warm sake were the best complements for each other. Yet another mouthful was testament to that. If only he was not sitting alone on the steps of the training house, while the rest of the occupants of the Kamiya dojo slept soundly in their rooms. He wondered how long he could last before boredom forced him back to the guestroom.

Resting his head against his knees, he closed his eyes. He gave himself to the reeling sensation. Then suddenly in the blackness he sensed the presence of another, and heavily he raised his head. It was Megumi, looking like a spirit in a pristine white yukata and bare feet. He laughed at the illusion of Megumi, or his own foolishness, whichever made more sense.

"Am I so amusing?"

The teasing sarcasm of her voice was unmistakable. He paused to stare critically at her, then laughed wildly.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, trying not to slur too much as he did so.

He beckoned for her to join him, then edged a little to the side of the narrow step so that she could sit beside him. Megumi accepted his invitation; she was certainly being acquiescent today. Abruptly he thrust the sake jug at her.

"You should have some, makes the words flow easier."

Once again, she complied with him, although this time she appeared somewhat hesitant. It pleased him immensely when he witnessed her lips touch the mouth of the jug as she drank. It was where his mouth had been just a few moments ago. This circuitous method of kissing was a long forgotten childhood memory, one that he retrieved now with ease. A cheeky little boy, the kind of boy he had been, would boldly point out such an occurrence to the other children, who would then giggle nervously, but not without some glee.

"It's a beautiful night," she said as she threw her head back to look up at the sky.

He followed her action, but quickly jerked his head upright when the tiny stars dotting the dark blue night began to swirl in a confusing mess. He leveled his gaze to her face instead. The light wind was blowing her hair about, so that the long strands occasionally shrouded her profile from his sight.

"It is, more so when you have a good woman by your side."

She laughed, "How does sake dull your brain yet sweeten your tongue?"

"Wasn't sake that made me say those words, but you'd never see that."

He felt sorry for the silence that followed. If he let it continue she might just go away. While it was better that she did, rare was the time when the kitsune-onna was so willing. Maybe it was because she would be leaving for Aizu soon, which made her a nicer person. No, not nicer, for she was a good person already. In frustration he put his hand against his forehead, where the skin felt hot. How to speak of Megumi's behavior tonight?

It certainly was a surprise when he felt her hand on his knee. The feeling was very nice. He realized it then, that tonight she was responding to him. Dazedly he wondered if she would slap him if he tried to kiss her. Such an impulsive thought was followed by no less than incredulity, for the idea that he would dare to attempt it with her now was shocking even to his befuddled self. Shocking, but no less tempting. It was a vulgar act among adults, the kind of thing that was only practiced openly in the red-lantern district, nestled in the dark underbelly of downtown Tokyo.

The gaudy brothels that littered the area were where a drunken Sanosuke had found himself wandering into many troubled nights, to be led by the chatty proprietress to a girl, any girl; it was obvious from his confused manner that he did not care. And as long as he had the money to pay, nobody else there cared either. Sometimes he pretended the girl his hips were bucking against was Megumi; sometimes he was content to revel in the unthinking carnality of the act itself. So it was that the occasional teahouse girl came to soothe the hurt, but those girls never did anything for the heart.

He moved a little closer, intending to try his luck. He liked to gamble anyway, loser or no. She would be leaving in a few days, why not give them both something to remember, for better or worse.

"What do you know, Sano? A boy mistakes lust for love."

_Shimatta_.

He withdrew. Now her words would provoke thought, and when he was thinking, he lost the good part of courage. She had called him a _boy_. That he could not deny, but the implications were insulting, as if youth made him stupid. So he was not the brightest of men, not like she deserved, yet there were some things he knew well enough. He knew all about lust, having been introduced to it at an early age. Because he knew it so well, he understood that what he felt for her went entirely beyond it.

Though slightly lewd, it was perfect reasoning to him. Still it was not something he would tell the respected Takani-sensei. Her opinion of him was low enough. He should not do any more to widen the breach between them. That, as well as the realization that she was complicated in a way that overwhelmed him, had forced him to keep a respectful distance. But tonight he was drunk and closer to her than he had ever been. It made him heady thinking about it. He imagined he could even smell her scent, something only faintly sweet, like a lonely flower about to bloom.

Tentatively he turned his head slightly to look at her. The kitsune-onna was looking ahead at nothing. Her hand was still on his knee, the fingers caressing the fabric of his pants absently. He took a long drink from the jug. Impulsively he leaned over and kissed her, regretting that he reeked of sake but seeking her mouth nonetheless. His mouth landed awkwardly, somewhere between the tapered left end of her lip and her smooth cheek. She stiffened with shock at the act, and he took advantage to quickly shift his head so that his mouth was pressed fully against hers this time. Yet she did not pull away from him, nor slap him like he thought she might. Though she did not respond, her lips parted slightly as his mouth moved against hers. He tried his best to be gentle, fighting off the urge to kiss her roughly.

The only reason why he broke the kiss was because dawn would break in a few minutes. The dark sky was slowly fading to a pale hue, the furtiveness of night defeated by the glare of light. Soon everyone would rise and pollute the day with normalcy again. Megumi leaned her head against his chest briefly, and then she eased out of his embrace.

"Angst doesn't become you, Sano."

He rose to the challenge as habit dictated.

"Che, you always think you know everything!"

Then he smiled at her, trying not to let his sadness stain the smile. She laughed softly as she gave the ragged end of the ribbon hanging over his shoulder a light tug, and then got up from the steps to leave.

Nothing had changed; he still did not understand the woman, and she would still be leaving for Aizu in a few precious days. Yet he did get what he wanted from the night, and as his intoxicated mind would have him believe, maybe she did too.


	9. The Heart of the Matter

**Mukashi no Koibito**

**9 : The Heart of the Matter**

Sanosuke ran a hand through his hair. It was the best he could do. Years of exposure to the elements and blunt scissors had made his hair coarser and more unruly than ever. He wished he could cut it. He also wished he could shave the slight beard on his chin. It was more hair than he was used to, and it reminded him of the hairy foreign devils he saw in his travels.

The small, ill-used mirror in the dim room of the inn made him look all the worse. Once, he had been young enough that by virtue of boyish features he could pass off as halfway respectable. Yet he was no longer nineteen, and it showed in the angular lines of his lean face and the quiet cynicism in his brown eyes. With the unkempt hair and beard, he looked starkly threatening.

He turned away from the mirror. The hair and beard he would have to bear with, for the same reason he was clad in a ubiquitous kimono and hakama. It was somewhat of a risk to walk around looking the very image of Sagara Sanosuke. He could not deny the thrill of that, but over the years he had acquired some good sense. The red band around his forehead he let remain.

Walking along the streets, he absorbed himself in the sights and sounds. The country was Japan, but it was not quite the same as when he left it. More people were clad in some form of Western attire, blending the traditional with the foreign. He saw more Western words than he remembered, and than he cared for. His home had changed, as everything inevitably did. Still, much of the familiar existed, for change was rarely absolute. For one, it felt wonderful to hear his language spoken so freely and better yet to be able to understand every word. The essence of Japan thrived in all its lands; he could feel it in this place even though it was not his city. Once he had remarked that from Tokyo he could run to Aizu in a day. Though that claim remained unfulfilled, he was finally here.

A group of pretty young girls passed him by, and he tossed out a teasing remark, laughing raucously at their prim expressions and quickened steps. No matter how many women he had, he liked the women of his own skin best of all, perhaps because he could not forget.

He took his time walking through the town, observing the people and the shops open for business. So this was what the onna-sensei saw every day. Different from the busy streets of Tokyo in his memory, here there were less people up and about and they seemed to move at a more measured pace. He tried to take in as much detail as his senses allowed, as if it could bring him closer to her new life.

Realizing where his thoughts were heading, he smiled wryly at the once familiar idealism of his youth. It had faded, but it never really deserted him. Yet the purpose of coming to Aizu was to see her, nothing more and nothing less. More than anyone else, even Kenshin or Taichou, she had been such an influence in his life. Those good men had taught him righteousness and bravery, but it was she who caused him to live through the most violent of emotions. He had hated her yet desired her, then loved her but granted only jealousy and longing. Even now, memories lost their meaning when he tried to think of love as something new.

He supposed he _did_ love her still, even though the painful, awkward passion of his youth had diminished. As was her habit, she still came uninvited into his thoughts now and then, but she was no longer the image of a ghost who haunted him with unfulfilled expectations. She was simply Megumi - physician, friend, enemy and in the vaguest sense, lover. What he felt for her now was borne out of nostalgia for a time past, when a mere whisper from impetus could inspire him to go hurtling into the chaos of uninhibited feeling and mad adventure. She had been a big part of that life.

That he had to leave his country those years ago as a wanted man still made him curse with distaste, but the truth was leaving had been good for him. Leaving, among other things, had allowed him to see the world beyond the cocoon of Tokyo and move out from the shadow of Kenshin. It had provided respite from the intensity. To put it simply, he had grown up.

After a good half-hour, he finally reached his destination. The signboard above the modest house read "Takani Shinryousho" in bold calligraphy. He took a few steps back to get a good look at the clinic. She had done well for herself and the memory of her family, as she deserved.

As he neared the clinic, his wandering eyes settled on the figure of a slim woman sitting on the steps of the house. He was utterly unprepared for the sight of her now, for he had imagined that he would have to linger around her patients for his chance to see her, or at least knock on the door and wait some tense moments for her to open it. He stopped and stared. Megumi had her head tilted down and was massaging her left shoulder with an awkward right hand. Her work must have ended not long ago, for though the gate to the clinic was open, the place itself was empty.

For some reason she chose to look up then, when he was still staring so rudely at her. He could see uncertainty in her eyes, and then slow realization. He raised one hand halfway in greeting.

"Sanosuke?" she called out.

But she did not wait for him to acknowledge her. She stood up, smoothed the skirt of her kimono and made her way towards him. In the short distance that separated them both, she ran her fingers quickly though her hair self-consciously, an action reminiscent of his own at the beginning of the way here.

Clad in a simple blue kimono, Megumi looked somewhat wan. No longer was she piercingly beautiful; her lips were no more a bold red, nor was her face carefully powdered as he remembered. She was plainer now, but to him the subtlety of her beauty was lovely. He felt a sudden, distinctly masculine urge to hold her.

When she was close, she slipped her hands into his in a surprising gesture. He clasped rough fingers around them hesitantly. She looked up at him, smiling.

"Okaeri," she said teasingly. "Kaoru had her turn to say that, now it's mine."

He laughed then, for wit was still very much a part of her. There were other things he realized too. She was happy to see him, and she wanted him here. In that moment, he understood how Kenshin must have felt all those years ago. And like Kenshin before him, there was only one word in his heart. He grinned at her cockily like he used to do.

"Tadaima."

---

Sanosuke sat up from his bed abruptly. The feel of the word was still on his lips.

"Tadaima," he echoed.

In the tumult of emotions that followed, his first instinct was to wake Megumi up, but when he leaned over there was only empty space. This was his narrow bed he had been sleeping on, not her futon. Not so long ago he had been spending so many nights at her apartment that it was hard to get used to his own bed.

Making his way to the light switch, he flicked it on. He squinted as the harsh white light hurt his eyes, but fumbled with the telephone anyway. It was very late, but he could not tell how late because the clock had stopped long ago. His watch was nowhere to be found. He drummed his fingers impatiently against the table as he waited for her to pick up the phone; he counted ten rings before he heard the 'click'.

"Oi, Megumi, I--"

"Please leave a message."

"Kuso!" he cursed, then realized the machine had started recording. He slammed down the phone. She might be in deep sleep, but more likely she was ignoring him. He had not seen her for close to two weeks. He was missing her so badly it was hard to close his eyes at night, but every time he was with her, when she held his hand, kissed him, laughed with him, he remembered their past.

'It's different now', she had pleaded with him, 'we're no longer the same people'. Yet they were still very much the same, in name and beyond. He had been the type of boy who did better in delinquency than books, who barely made it to university then dropped out in his first year for life on the streets - so feckless like the Sanosuke of before. Though nothing close to an expert fighter, he was still good with his fists. She was as driven and sharply intelligent as she had been in that life. Only the circumstances were different; the truth remained the same. He did not deserve her. It was only a matter of time before she turned away from him.

His lapse in confidence had led to the first of many heated arguments. Where once her sharp wit teased him endlessly, it was now used for scathing comebacks when they fought. The obvious thing to do was to spend less time together, lest they ended up hating each other. That was what he had told her the last time he saw her. Megumi had retorted sarcastically that he needed the time to 'come to terms with his stupidity'. He would never hit her, so he had flung the beer bottle he had in his hand then violently into a wall. In his mind, he could still see her pale face as the glass shattered and flew everywhere. One of the glass shards had cut the side of her face, leaving a thin line of blood on her pristine cheek.

Now there was this memory. He had returned to Aizu to look for her. The Sanosuke then seemed to have a lot more determination than he did. That, or a lot more foolishness. The Megumi of before, so much colder than the one he loved now, had been elated by his return.

He reached for whatever clothing was strewn on the floor. He would look for her, even if at this hour he would be interrupting her rest. If she shut the door in his face he would kick it down. There were some things he could learn from his former self. As he struggled with the buttons on his shirt, he wondered what kind of ending there was for the Sagara Sanosuke and Takani Megumi of old. What kind of ending would there be for the two of them now?


	10. Of Past and Present

**Mukashi no Koibito**

**10 : Of Past and Present**

In the darkened room, Megumi lay quietly with Sanosuke. The sounds of the night were harsh; the crickets seemed to be calling louder than ever, and a wayward breeze threatened the wind chimes, making them sing in frenzy. Yet she was only aware of him, his presence and his even breathing. She threaded her fingers through his hair and let them rest there, and with his head lying against her chest it seemed as if she were clutching him to her in a gesture of possessiveness.

He shifted a little, and his beard grazed her bare skin. She was now familiar with the roughness, for it was always there, even when he was gentle. This gentleness was not one borne of fumbling inexperience, as might have been some years ago. He was gentle with deliberateness, because he wanted to please her.

After so long, he was still taken with her. When he was younger, she had rejected his affection, because she had thought of him as foolish and incited by irrational passion. He had saved her, and his head had been filled by romantic delusions of being bound to her because of the fact. That she possessed beauty spurred on such thought. Few men were invulnerable to her bold charm, the kind that they coveted but did not want in their wives. Even the good Kenshin had surreptitiously looked at her with admiration more than once, even though her flirting perplexed him. He had married the innocent Kaoru in the end.

There had been things she was forced to do that in her lowest moments she felt as if soul and body were sullied beyond redemption. Perhaps this was why Kenshin did not want her. He was as stained as she was, only by choice, and so he sought purity. If that logic was reversed, then it explained why the straightforward Sanosuke chose her. There was much allure in the contrary.

Sounds coming from the next room interrupted her musings. They were deliberate sounds, at first of feet shuffling, then a chest opening with a loud creak and the rustle of clothing being rummaged through. Something fell onto the tatami with a dull thud. She smiled, then laughed. Sanosuke chuckled too, a low sound in his throat that she could feel against her. She thought he had been asleep.

"Yahiko is trying to tell us something," he said softly.

"He's not very good at being subtle, even when he's being subtle."

"The boy has given us too much time already."

"It's not enough."

Against her, she felt his breathing pause for a moment. Then he shifted so that he was propped up on one elbow beside her, and she could see his face. In the weak light of the solitary lantern, she was once again surprised by how much older he looked. She was by now familiar with the intricacies of his face, for she had studied it daily with an almost scholarly interest since his return. She knew about the faint lines at the corner of his eyes, his strong but now slightly crooked nose - he said it had taken one too many hits, his once lively mouth, which had acquired an unconsciously solemn pout. Yet despite this knowledge, in her mind was forever embedded the memory of the eager, artless youth he had been years ago.

He was rough-hewn and reckless and a notorious fighter, a person who was deemed a different class from her. Yet these things mattered little when of himself he would give freely, if only she would let him. In Aizu, in moments of loneliness, she had slowly come to understand that the many standards she had used to judge him were but petty reasoning, the kind of thing that made life difficult. She had forced herself to be indifferent for too long, and in vengeance her suppressed feelings had broken free and stabbed her with ferocity during moments of solitude. She had longed for him as he must have longed for her.

In the next room, the cover of the chest slammed shut, as if Yahiko had let it fall down unceremoniously. Then came the sounds of him pacing up and down.

"How long more do you think before he comes in to wake us?" she whispered.

"The boy is mature enough to know his responsibilities," said Sanosuke. "The only reason why he hasn't yet is because he doesn't want to walk in on two naked people in the same futon."

He was grinning as he said, "I'll bet he hasn't seen anyone naked except himself!"

He laughed at the jibe, and she laughed with him, her laughter a delicate companion to his coarse one. The pacing in the next room stopped. Yahiko must have heard them. She imagined him pressing his head against the thin wall, desperately hoping to hear sounds of activity, that they were awake and getting dressed. His task not completed as yet, he had to be anxious to prove himself worthy to the men he admired. Though more a young man than a boy, Yahiko resembled the child Sanosuke, so eager to be thought of as capable by his Taichou.

She pressed her palm flat against Sanosuke's chest and pushed at him lightly, urging him to get up. From her vantage point on the futon, she watched him as he dressed. Scars marred the smooth brown skin of his torso, permanent marks of his tumultuous life. Some had been there since she had known him, like the prominent cicatrix on his right shoulder. Others were new, of which she had a first glimpse of just months before. He said he would always remember how he got every one, even the ones that could not be seen. There was one in his heart made by her.

"Megumi?"

He called out to her as he finished dressing. She stood up reluctantly and made a move towards the drawers where her clothes were kept, but he took it upon himself to fetch them for her. Carefully he unfolded the juban and helped her into it, his hands lingering against her body. He was not so much trying to help her dress as he was attempting, in some abstract way, of leaving his imprint on her. He pressed his rough warm palms against her breasts and her belly and her hips with the kind of careful precision more befitting of a physician. She let him, even though she knew they were wasting time. Just hours before they had loved each other to exhaustion, but she knew, as well as he did, how impossible it was to satisfy two people who carried in their hearts the anticipation of separation.

Finally, he struggled with tying the slip together, and she giggled at his effort, so that he nipped her at the base of her throat. He took her kimono off from the wooden rack.

"You spoil me, Sano."

"But not enough," he muttered.

The heavy feeling inside her rose suddenly, until it seemed that she would choke. She remembered the first time she felt it, just a week ago, when the two of them sitting on the steps of the house had caught sight of Yahiko. It certainly was a surprise to see the boy. There had been nothing in Kaoru's letters over the months about an impending visit, even though the news that Sanosuke was with her in Aizu had provoked unconcealed curiosity to no end. That day had been the first time Sanosuke saw Yahiko in years, yet he had not come forward to greet his friend with enthusiasm. He had remained on the steps, waiting for the boy to approach. There was something odd in the way Yahiko had his hands balled tightly into fists, his eyes looking straight ahead but not at them. The weight had settled in her heart for the first time that day.

Sanosuke was as awkward with tying her obi as he was with handling the silk kimono, even though she could see from the furrow of his brow that he was concentrating on the task now. Yet when he was finally done, he regarded her with nothing less than possessive pride. He smoothed her hair, which had become tousled after lying with him.

"Will you do this again?"

"Never for another."

He took her hand tightly in his. It was time to go. Before he could reach for the shoji and slide it open, she tugged at his hand impulsively to hold him back.

"Stay with me."

"Come with me."

Even now, they were at odds with each other. She smiled, and he smiled. He just had to be so impetuously righteous; to make such an utter fool of the corrupt Tani that the minister wanted him arrested still. Yahiko had been sent by Kenshin to warn Sanosuke that his picture was everywhere on the streets of Tokyo. If the police could know of his return, then they could just as easily trace his path to Aizu.

She would not go with him. She had worked so hard to establish the Takani reputation once more, that abandoning the clinic would mean abandoning her reason for living. Her work had suffered because of him. The town had not been blind to the goings-on of the past months, and talk was rife about Takani-sensei and her secret lover. A few patients had stopped coming, while some came only to catch a glimpse of the rumored man. All this she could ignore, for there were those who remained loyal. Yet if she should leave with Sanosuke, the legacy of the Takani family would be of its last daughter having eloped with a wanted man. The work of her father and forefathers would be forgotten.

Outside, Yahiko was dressed and waiting. He was to escort Sanosuke far away, to the Shikoku or Kyushu regions perhaps. Anywhere but here, and he would be safe. The boy watched the two of them carefully as they entered the living room. His eyes traveled down to where their hands were linked, and he looked away. He clutched at the string that held his sakabatou over his shoulder, twisting it with uncertain fingers.

"I'll make sure Sano stays safe, I swear it."

Letting go of Sanosuke's hand, she walked over to where Yahiko was standing. She put her hands on his shoulders. Though brash and somewhat rude, Yahiko was kind. It was hard on him to see them separate, because he wanted to believe in their happy ending. Of youthful idealism he had plenty, just like the Sanosuke of years ago. He had grown up with Kenshin's ideals, but in character resembled Sanosuke more than anyone else. She was glad he chose Tsubame. Someday he would marry the girl, and she would bear him children.

"I might go see the world again," said Sanosuke. "Maybe I'll take you along Yahiko!"

Surprise crossed the boy's solemn features for a moment, then a brief smile. He nodded. In silence he slipped out the door, leaving Sanosuke and her. In the sudden quiet of the house, she realized how she missed their time alone. What lovers did, they had indulged in freely within this sanctuary.

"Megumi, one day..."

She leaned into the familiar hardness of his body, and he held her to him. She believed him. He would come here to look for her time and again, though they would never belong to each other. One so restless like him was meant for a wanderer's life; he had decided that the day he left his family to join the Sekihoutai. She was bounded to Aizu, the place of her birth. Sanosuke kissed her once more, a rueful kiss of parting, and then he was gone, into the arms of autumn's night.

---

Outside, the night sky was vast and infinite, stretching far beyond what the frame of the window allowed the eye to see. The same sky that watched over her life many, many years ago. Megumi wondered how much more there was to know, how much more that she had not been privileged to discover. Perhaps knowledge was not a privilege, but a pity. There was no sleep to be had tonight.

Behind her, she heard the rustle of sheets, the comforting sound of Sanosuke as he slept. She smiled at the sky. When she felt warm hands clasp at her waist, she turned around in surprise. So he had awoken. He did that sometimes, when she was not by his side. It was not very long ago when he had returned to her, and he still lapsed into the odd bout of missing her. He of course, would argue otherwise; she had wanted him back just as desperately.

"Why won't you sleep?"

The words were said quietly into her hair, as he rested his head at the curve where her neck joined her shoulder. His breath warming her skin made the moment more corporeal than the memory of what had transpired between them, and she was grateful for it. She leaned into him, as she had done before. Only now she had him, maybe. Fate was a capricious entity, as cruel as it was kind.

"Tell me," said Sanosuke, his voice sad.

So she did.

**Author's Notes:**

This fic was written on impulse. I thought it would be brilliant if Sanosuke and Megumi met in present times, so in a haze of inspiration I fleshed out their first meeting. I never really thought of what would happen after that encounter, and so the story only developed as I wrote each chapter. There is unevenness to some chapters because of this, though it was an interesting way to write.

Looking back, the idea is as irrational as ideas come. Reincarnation isn't supposed to happen, and even if it did, it doesn't happen the way it happens here. This fic is unabashed romance, but not without cynicism.

I thank all my reviewers. You make me a happy girl.


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